He spotted Julie sitting with the same group of females from the set. Since two of the four had indicated they would tolerate him he decided to head over. The plump blonde spotted him first, grabbed up her plate and bolted for the buffet. Finn found himself watching her behind in the satin sheath dress and thought nastily a few more runs to the chow line and she’ll be vying for the Shelly Winters roles.
Julie gave him a too bright, too large smile, Tanya coolly surveyed him, and the brunette eyed him nervously but this time held her ground.
“EVENING LADIES,” Finn bellowed.
“HI,” Julie shouted back. The brunette’s mouth opened and closed, but he couldn’t hear what she said. Tanya just inclined her head with air of a queen. Again Finn felt respect for the girl. She knew how to avoid looking ridiculous.
Finn bent at the waist and put his lips close to Julie’s ear. “Who’s your friend?” He indicated the brunette with a jerk of his chin.
Julie turned to place her mouth near his ear. Wisps of hair tickled his nose and cheek. He could smell the hair spray. “Anne,” Julie replied.
“Hi, Anne.” Finn waved at the brunette. She gave him a tense smile.
“Nice party.”
It wasn’t that he heard her, but years at these events had taught him a form of ESP crossed with lip reading. It was the safest and most inane thing the brunette could say so Bradley suspected that was what she had said. He gave her a broad smile and nodded enthusiastically.
Tanya was watching him. The intensity of her gaze was such that he found himself looking at her rather than at Julie, who was trying to talk with him. Since he was only catching one word in four, it wasn’t working. Tanya lifted her champagne glass, quirked an eyebrow at him, and jerked her head toward the bar. Finn nodded. He make his excuses to Julie. From her expression when he walked away he gathered she hadn’t gotten the drift.
Tanya led him around the bar where it dovetailed into a corner. Amazingly it was almost quiet in the cubbyhole. Finn looked around at the rows of glittering bottles, and the racked glasses hanging like bulbous stalactites. A short hallway ran past them leading to the bathrooms. It made for an odd mixed smell of spilled beer and toilet bowl freshener.
“How did you know about this?”
“Used to tend bar here,” Tanya answered.
“A woman of many talents.” Finn cringed again.
Tanya gave him smile. Her lips quirked up higher on one side than the other which gave her a gamin look. “You really keep walking into them, don’t you?”
“Sorry, I’m not usually this gauche.”
“Should I take that as a compliment?” Tanya asked.
“Yes. You’re quite beautiful and you fluster me.”
“Good. Can you fluster your dad for me?”
Finn was disappointed. He’d thought this girl might avoid the worst of the actress clichés. He realized she was watching him very closely with a measuring expression.
“Is this a test?” Finn asked.
“Yeah. I figured I’d do it for Julie and save both of you the embarrassment.”
“I never use the relationship on anyone’s behalf.”
Tanya pulled down a bottle of scotch and poured a couple of fingers into her champagne glass. “I’ll pass the word.”
“Guess this means I won’t be hearing from her,” Finn said.
“Oh cut the crap. If you really want to connect with women that way you’d be making promises whether you could keep them or not.”
Grace Kelly came gliding down the hall from the bathrooms. Stan followed a few steps behind. He was shoving a small make-up case back into his shoulder bag. The elderly make-up artist made himself unobtrusive and slipped away along the back wall. Kelly gave Finn and Tanya a smile, then swept on and rejoined Harrison Ford at their table. She had arrived with the actor, so Finn figured the fling with Beatty was over. Finn looked back down at Tanya and found her staring across the room at Stan Whitehorn-Humphries where he sat alone at a small table.
“So, you want to dance?” Finn asked.
Tanya kept looking at Stan. “I don’t think either of us want to look that absurd.” It stung, but Finn had to admit it was an accurate assessment. “Actually I think I’m just about funned out. See you around, Bradley.”
She waved her fingertips and slipped away. Finn looked back at Stan. The Englishman was watching Kelly. His expression was both fond and regretful. Stan had never married. Finn now thought he knew why. Bradley looked from Kelly glowing and radiant as she leaned against Ford’s shoulder, to the withered old man who watched her with such longing. They were separated by a vast gulf of age and status and it wasn’t going to be bridged. Finn glanced back along the length of his horse body. He looked at all the pretty girls. Suddenly he was all funned out too.
Three days Finn had a late call, four pm. He parked his van, and backed the length of the stripped interior and out the rear doors. There was a tendril of smoke hanging over the hills of Griffith Park, and the hot Santa Ana winds carried the acrid scent of burning.
The high walls of the sound stages blocked out the wind, and Finn’s shirt was soon sticking to his back. He trotted toward stage 23, and stopped dead when he saw the knots of people hanging around in the street. The small groups would split apart and coalesce in new configurations. Cigarettes were being nervously puffed, flipped onto the pavement and crushed. New ones were lit. Finn knew what this looked like. It looked like trouble.
Edgar Burksen, Finn Senior’s favorite director of photography, was pacing in small circles outside the stage door. Finn joined him.
“Hi, what’s up?” Finn asked the Dutchman. “Warren shut down the production?” The rising star was known for his insistence on perfection.
“No, Kelly.”
Finn goggled. In all the long years of her career the actress had never shut down a production. “What happened?”
“We don’t know. She won’t come to the stage. She won’t let your father in the trailer.” The D.P. gave a very European shrug.
A big black limo came nosing down the street and stopped almost at the door of Kelly’s trailer. The driver climbed out and knocked. The door of the enormous Star Waggon abruptly swung open and with such force that it slammed against the metal side of the trailer. Everyone jumped, then stared as Grace Kelly emerged.
Her head and neck were swathed in scarves and enormous sunglasses hid her eyes. She almost jumped the two feet separating the trailer from the limo, and dove into the back seat. The back door was closed, the driver took his place and the car rolled away. Nothing could be seen through the darkly tinted windows.
Everyone released a pent up breath and began talking at once. Finn stared at Edgar. “She looks like Marilyn dodging the press,” Finn said.
“At least with Marilyn you knew why she was shutting you down—pills and booze,” Edgar said. “This is just a glamour fit.”
“About what?” Finn asked.
“Stan didn’t show up to work today, and she won’t let anyone else do her make-up,” Edgar explained.
“Did somebody check on him?”
“Your dad sent a P.A. over to his house. He wasn’t there.”
There was a tingle of concern down the length of Finn’s human back and into his horse back. It manifested in his white tail beginning to swish madly. “Or he couldn’t answer. Stan’s seventy if he’s a day.”
“We can’t exactly break in,” Edgar answered.
“Does he have family?”
Edgar gave the shrug again.
Finn felt really bad. Because Benton had directed so many Grace Kelly movies, and because Stan was her preferred make-up artist, Finn had gotten to know the English émigré pretty well. He had always treated Finn with courtesy and respect, and not just because of who his dad was or how much money they had. Finn hoped the old man hadn’t had a stroke or a heart attack. Finn glanced at his watch, and realized he was late for his call.
“Keep me posted,” he said to Edgar
and kicked it into a gallop.
“Coppola has already been over to Diller’s office telling him that he knows how to handle a real star. That’s he’s an ‘actors director’.” Finn senior provided the quotes with his fingers, then twisted his lips in disgust.
“Be sure to seed the cucumbers,” Alice Finn said, as she bustled past Finn where he stood chopping salad fixings at the marble cutting board. “They give your father gas.”
“I’m discussing the eminent end of my career, and you’re discussing cucumbers?” Benton Finn demanded.
Alice paused to kiss her husband on the top of the head, “Actually your reaction to them,” she said, and headed across expanse of marble floor to the oven.
The family was gathered in the giant kitchen of the Bel Aire house. Black granite counters stretched out in all directions like an alien monolith. There were two ovens, a convection oven, a microwave oven, and an open hearth rotisserie. The refrigerator was hidden behind cherry wood panels, and glass fronted cabinets threw back the light from the track lighting. It looked like a movie set, but for the incongruity of a battered Formica breakfast table with cheap chrome chairs which sat in the bay window of the breakfast nook. Benton Finn was seated at the old table morosely drinking wine.
“So what is the deal with Stan?” Finn asked as he sprinkled on dressing. The pungent scent of vinegar and pepper made him sneeze.
“God Bless you,” said his mother placidly.
“Who knows?” Benton replied. “The cops say they can’t enter the house until he’s been missing twenty-four hours. By then my career will have ended.”
“By then Stan might be dead if he’s fallen or had a stroke,” Finn said.
Benton flushed. “Look, I’m worried about Stan too, but I’ve got two hundred people working for me. . . .”
“Would you get the butter, dear?” Alice sang out to her husband as she pulled the pot roast out of the oven.
Benton started for the refrigerator. The phone rang. Benton answered it. “Grace, my God, we’ve been so worried. . . .” His voice broke off abruptly, and he began listening intently. Finn stood holding the salad. Alice held the roast. The aroma of roasted potatoes and gravy filled the room. It was so quiet in the room that Finn could hear the tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway.
“I don’t think Dr. Tachyon is the right choice,” Benton finally said. “You’re not a wild card.” Benton listened again. “You think you caught it this morning?” His father rolled a desperate eye at Finn.
Finn shook his head. What the actress was describing was virtually impossible. If she had somehow caught a spoor she’d be dead . . . or a joker. Which might explain her demand for Tachyon.
“Look, I’ll try to get him here, but it’ll take a day. . . .” There was obviously some kind of explosion from the other end of the line, because Benton broke off abruptly. His father was nodding, muttering uh huh, uh huh; finally Benton blurted out, “My son is in medical school. Specializing in wild card medicine. Let me have him take a look at you.”
I’m going to lose my license before I ever get it. Finn thought.
“Okay, just hang tight,” Benton was saying. “We’ll be right over.” The director hung up the phone, and headed past his wife and son. “Let’s go,” he snapped to Finn.
“Dad, I’m starting my second year of medical school. I barely know how to find the pancreas.”
“And dinner’s ready,” Alice protested.
Benton didn’t pause. He slammed out the pantry door into the garage. Finn heard the whine of the garage door going up. He looked at his mother and shrugged. The horn of the van started blaring in sharp staccato honks. Finn put the salad on the table, and headed out.
“Oh . . . Holy . . . Shit . . . !!”
It probably wasn’t the most diplomatic thing his father could have said, and it had the effect Finn expected. Grace Kelly started to cry.
The tears went washing down her cheeks, catching in the net of wrinkles around her eyes and racing down the crevasses on either side of her mouth. It wasn’t that the wrinkles were so deep; what was shocking was that they were there at all. From her debut role in Fourteen Hours in 1951 she had never changed. At least not physically. Her acting had become more elegant and nuanced, but the perfect face had retained the smoothness of porcelain. With other actresses of her generation it was apparent the wrinkles were being tucked away beneath their hairline. Not with Grace. She was perpetually twenty-two.
Now she was fifty-one. A beautiful fifty-one, but not the stunning ingenue currently staring in The French Lieutenant’s Woman.
Benton Finn was staring blindly at the far wall of the living room of the Los Feliz mansion. He was unconsciously combing his hair with his fingers. Grace, huddled on the curved sofa, pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose. Finn shifted his weight from foot to foot to foot to foot, his hooves sinking in the plush beige carpet. He wondered how long the silence was going to last.
“Is this the wild card?” Benton finally rasped out.
Finn and Kelly’s eyes met. Her expression was desperate pleading. She drew in a shaky breath and said, “No.”
“Then why the hell did you want Tachyon?” the director asked.
“I was hoping he might know an ace or a shot or something that could . . . fix me. Give me back my youth.”
Now it was Benton’s turn to give his son the desperate look. “Do you think there is such a thing?” he asked.
“No.” Finn looked at Kelly. “I’d say Ms. Kelly had the market on the Fountain of Youth cornered.”
“So what the hell happened?” Benton demanded. He swiped his hand through his hair again. It looked like a gray/blond haystack.
Finn thought furiously. It couldn’t be a substance or others would have discovered it. Kelly’s demand for Tachyon indicated it was wild card related. Which meant it had to be . . .
“Stan!” Finn blurted. “It’s Stan, isn’t it?”
Kelly stared at him with the air of deer caught in the headlights, bit her lip, and finally nodded.
His father stared at him, his brow furrowed in confusion. Benton pointed at Kelly’s face. “No make-up man is this good.” Kelly gave a gusty sob and held the sodden handkerchief to her eyes.
“He is if he’s a wild card,” Finn replied. He looked back at Kelly. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
The actress nodded. “We met on the set of High Noon. I had been out too late the night before. I asked him to cover the shadows. He gave me this smile.” The woman also smiled at the memory. “He leaned in close to me, and whispered he’d make them vanish. And he did.” She twisted the handkerchief between her fingers. “He’s been with me ever since. On every film.”
“So where is he?” Benton asked.
“I don’t know,” Kelly wailed.
“Have you checked his house?” Finn asked. Kelly’s eyes slid away.
“How could she?” Benton asked. His voice had lost the stridency of a few minutes before and he was taking on the director’s smooze tone.
“Because the effect obviously doesn’t last very long, which means he’s got to be doing her make-up before every date, every preview, every meeting. She probably has a key to his house.” Finn wasn’t a director and didn’t need to coddle stars. He simply laid it out baldly.
Kelly didn’t relish the tone. She gave him a dirty look. “He’s not there. His car’s there but he’s gone.”
“Was the door locked or unlocked?” Finn had often been an extra on Jokertown Blues. He suddenly realized he was sounding a lot like Captain Furillo.
“Locked.”
“So you have got a key.” Kelly bit her lip, then pulled the key out of a pant pocket, and held it out. Finn automatically took it.
“Any sign of a struggle?” Finn asked.
The actress looked startled as if that hadn’t occurred to her. Probably hadn’t. She was far more concerned with the ravages to her face than Stan’s fate. “No. Well . . . maybe. His din
ner was on the table. He’d eaten a little.”
Finn faced his father. “We need to call the police.”
“No,” wailed Kelly.
“Impossible,” snapped Benton.
“This can’t get out,” they both concluded in concert.
“The man is missing,” Finn argued.
“This is directed at me,” came the duet again. The director and the star paused and looked at each other.
“Somehow I think Stan would think it was directed at him,” Finn said with some asperity.
“Stan’s just a pawn,” said Benton. “Coppola’s been after me for a couple of years.”
True, Finn thought.
“And a lot of actresses resent me,” Kelly said.
Also true, thought Finn.
“So, what are we going to do?” Finn asked.
Neither his father nor Kelly had an answer for that. Instead there was a lot of toing and froing about how she really hadn’t changed all that much. She was still beautiful. Then they moved on to whether Benton was going to recast the movie, since it was unclear how long Kelly was going to be off the set. Finn’s stomach, which had been expecting dinner two hours ago, let out a loud rumble. Kelly gave him a startled look, and his dad frowned at him.
“I took you away from dinner, didn’t I? Let me order in a meal for you,” Kelly said. It was nice of her to offer. Most actresses were far too self-absorbed to notice the people around them. And Grace Kelly had every reason right now to be totally self-absorbed.
Benton shook his head. “We really need to get home. I need to reassure Alice that you’re all right.”
Kelly looked pleased. Proving yet again that an actor always assumed everything was about them.
Wild Cards XVI Deuces Down Page 16